Religious Rites
by Jaycie Victory
Summary: What could turn Jayne religious? Rayne. One-shot; complete.


**This is for HideYourCrazy and came from their prompt. The prompt was a song, Take Me to Church by Hozier, which the fic is based around; however, it is not a song fic.**

**The song's full lyrics can be found at the end. I'd definitely recommend looking it up on Youtube - it's awesome.**

**Hope you enjoy; would love to hear your thoughts - especially you, HideYourCrazy :)**

* * *

**Religious Rites**

Religion had always been a part of Jayne.

He'd been raised to it - to say grace, bow his head, be respectful to preachers - been smacked upside the head if he were too tardy doin' it. His love for his Ma, her unwavering belief, his unwavering belief in her, had left its mark on him, like gunpowder after a shootout. Hard to spot, but lightly coating everything.

It came out in the tender reverence with which he cleaned his weapons, his tactile devotion to his environment, the awed approval with which he traced a woman's curves.

But he'd never really known what it was to worship. Not like his Ma. Not from the soul.

Not until her.

* * *

_The girl sat up on the gurney and smiled at him, wide-eyed and happy: "A copper for a kiss?"_

_She cheerfully, chillingly assured him she could kill him with her brain._

_She lay down on the casket and contentedly closed her eyes._

_She saved them from the hunter and roared her victory laugh._

* * *

Jayne was good at sniffing out the truth; he had an instinct for it, for rooting out weaknesses and exploiting them. He knew how to cause pain, how to use it to draw out information, but before that, beyond that, he knew when people were lying to him.

The crazy girl set his teeth on edge. Talking in nothing but riddles; exuding earnest innocence whilst emanating darkness. Bad enough she'd say one thing whilst his tingling senses told him she meant another, bad enough she looked and moved like an angel but could turn demon at the drop of a hat. On top of that she was a ruttin' Reader. The knowledge she could know his very thoughts, his every longing, his every dirty truth... She was downright creepifying.

Until that day on Miranda when her frantic, fevered words reflected the dread he tasted in the air, scented on the wind, read in the horribly peaceful bodies. Words and circumstance snapped together, like assembling a gun; like pieces that only made sense, produced something whole, when slotted together.

She saved his life that day.

She saved him.

* * *

_The girl surrendered her body to her enemies._

_She laid down her life for those she loved._

_She whirled and twirled, and__ sliced and diced._

_Her dance was death._

_Her dance brought life._

* * *

The twist of it was, she got better just in time for Jayne to get sick.

Sick with longing, sick with something horribly like fear.

Burning with fever in her presence. Breaking out in a sweat when she got too close (which suddenly seemed to happen all the time).

Her nearness was torture, her proximity paradise. She was both ailment and cure.

Finally one day they were alone, finally he could voice his veneration. He opened his mouth to thank her, her hand pressed against his lips and the words dried up on his tongue.

Her stare pierced him mercilessly. She spoke solemnly and sure:

"I can heal you with my mouth."

Jayne didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

_The girl surrendered her body, but it was the boy who surrendered his soul._

* * *

His Ma's most prized possession was her Bible. If she could save one thing from a fire, it would be that.

Reading had never particularly interested Jayne. When he was young, fishing, running, tracking with his Pa had been the draw; a few years later, swipin' moonshine and convincin' the miller's daughter to bed down in the hay. So he'd never really read it himself; but his Ma had. Every night after dinner she read it to her kids.

Years and choices had dulled the edge of memory, but certain parts had stuck, fragments would re-emerge.

Reborn. Redeemed. Absolved.

Hands smoothed over slender curves, stroked through ebony hair, trembled on ivory skin; he didn't have the words, or couldn't quite form them, but with every breath, every kiss, every shiver, he paid homage.

* * *

_With my body, I thee worship._

* * *

They confessed to one another in the darkness, their best moments, their greatest shames.

Honesty was harder in the light of day.

So, of course, that was when she issued her commandment.

Jayne had always loved her skin, loved its contrast to his own, but in that moment his paleness rivalled hers.

He laughed like she was joking; she raised an eyebrow. He spluttered a refusal; she merely smiled.

But when he sought her out that night, her door was locked.

It remained locked the next two nights he tried.

The blow felt physical. He recalled how preachers said lust was a snare.

Like an addiction, he tried to quit her, tried to wean her from his system.

His fast lasted two weeks.

By then he could no longer dismiss the ache as physical; by then he couldn't give a damn about reputation, or the shame of giving in, or even self-preservation.

Before the startled eyes of the crew, he took her hand and led her from Serenity, out into the dusty streets.

It was a simple building for a simple settlement, but words spoken there bound as much as anywhere else.

He barely felt them; he'd already pledged everything he had and everything he was to her cause, to her happiness, to her will.

But she spoke the words back, she echoed his devotion, she offered half her power.

They left the church as equals.

Washed clean, made new, renewed.

* * *

_With this ring, I thee wed_

* * *

**___Take Me to Church by Hozier_**

**___My lover's got humour_  
_She's the giggle at a funeral_  
_Knows everybody's disapproval_  
_I should've worshipped her sooner_**

**_____If the Heavens ever did speak_  
_She is the last true mouthpiece_  
_Every Sunday's getting more bleak_  
_A fresh poison each week_  
_'We were born sick,' you heard them say it_**

**_______My church offers no absolution_  
_She tells me 'worship in the bedroom'_  
_The only heaven I'll be sent to_  
_Is when I'm alone with you_  
_I was born sick, but I love it_  
_Command me to be well_  
_Amen. Amen. Amen_**

**_________Take me to church_  
_I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies_  
_I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife_  
_Offer me that deathless death_  
_Good God, let me give you my life_**

**_If I'm a pagan of the good times_**  
**_My lover's the sunlight_**  
**_To keep the Goddess on my side_**  
**_She demands a sacrifice_**  
**_To drain the whole sea_**  
**_Get something shiny_**  
**_Something meaty for the main course_**  
**_That's a fine looking high horse_**  
**_What you got in the stable?_**  
**_We've a lot of starving faithful_**  
**_That looks tasty_**  
**_That looks plenty_**  
**_This is hungry work_**

**_So you can t__________ake me to church_  
_I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies_  
_I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife_  
_Offer me that deathless death_  
_Good God, let me give you my life_**

**_No masters or kings when the ritual begins_**  
**_There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin_**

**_In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene_**  
**_Only then I am human_**  
**_Only then I am clean_**  
**_Amen. Amen. Amen_**


End file.
